But a Dream
by Liete
Summary: -One-sided UK/US- 'He wouldn’t deny that he’d become a sentimental old man, but in an ever-changing world and its constant shift of power, he couldn’t bring himself to care.'


**But a Dream  
**

**By: Liete**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia or any of the characters portrayed.**

"England, wait up!"

England paused, sighing in irritation, and turned to face the exuberant United States of America. He didn't have the patience at the moment to deal with any of his whims. Not when he'd just gotten out of a meeting where America had babbled some inane nonsense about whales with jetpacks being their sure ticket to ending global warming. He set his deepest scowl on his face and huffed. "What do you want, America?"

"I…want to tell you something," America replied, his tone gentle, the lightest dusting of red spreading across his cheeks. England froze, his heart was starting to race and his mouth was going dry. Oh, how he'd always hoped for this moment, but now that it had come…

"Close your eyes," America said softly, his blue eyes warm with the love he'd always hoped he'd see there.

England shut his eyes, his heart pounding in his ears, and let out a shuddering sigh as he waited. He could almost feel, almost _taste_, America's breath on his face. A wretched combination of hamburgers and coffee that he wanted in his life more than anything. His hands trembled, aching to reach out and take what he so desired.

There were a few moments of silence, but nothing more. Not even an intake of breath or rustle of fabric. England slowly opened his eyes and found that no one was there.

"America?" He whispered to the empty hall before him. His gaze wandered the suddenly darkened hallway, his feet stepping forward until he abruptly felt that he was falling. Falling into nothing and then he found himself staring at his ceiling. The moonlight poured in through his open window, casting eerie shadows on the wall that he watched in mute fascination for a few lingering moments. A dream. He covered his eyes with his hands as he squeezed them shut.

Had it really come to that? He wanted America so badly and yet all he could do was dream about his feelings coming to fruition. He had to laugh derisively at himself. In his younger days, he would have just taken America, whether the younger nation wanted it or not, because in those days he always got what he wanted and no one refused the British Empire. Not if they valued their life, anyway.

But he had outgrown that phase, that devil-may-care attitude and the disregard for the feelings of others besides himself and his lust for more power. He had fallen in love with blue eyes like the sky, hair the color of those amber waves of grain, and a smile that put the sunshine to shame. Over the years, as he grew older, that love morphed from that of a fraternal nature to a bitter resentment and finally to a deep longing. He wouldn't deny that he'd become a sentimental old man, but in an ever-changing world and its constant shift of power, he couldn't bring himself to care. He'd had his glory, now he simply wanted someone he could love and be loved by.

Shame that he was so afraid of something as simple as a love confession. I love you, that wasn't so hard, was it? But, then again, those were words that had more power than one might realize. They could create. They could destroy. If you never said them, you'd never know what the answer would be. Once you said them, you couldn't take them back.

He pulled his hands away from his face and scowled at the ceiling. Oh, he really was turning into a sentimental old man. A sentimental old man who wondered what America's weight would feel like next to him at that moment, perhaps an arm slung around him, a steady rise and fall of his chest while his expression was calm in sleep. England's eyelids lowered, his cheeks flushed just thinking about it. He knew that simply thinking and hoping wouldn't get anything done, but America was so brash and insensitive that the chances of his feelings being unrequited were higher than he'd like.

Perhaps, England thought as he rolled over and pulled the covers over his shoulder, dreaming about it would have to suffice for now.


End file.
